


Yes In An Elevator

by Desdimonda



Category: Naruto, Naruto Shippuden
Genre: Anal Sex, Angry Obito, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Elevator Sex, Happy Ending, KakaObi Week 2019, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Modern AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Trapped In Elevator, argument, sarcastic kakashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desdimonda/pseuds/Desdimonda
Summary: Obito and Kakashi argue all the way down in the elevator after attending a disastrous party for Kakashi’s boss.Some things come up, though.——Written for day 5 of KakaObi Week - Trapped Together





	Yes In An Elevator

**Author's Note:**

> For setting purposes - modern AU with Kakashi as some sort of government agent. CIA or FBI or something that he hates but is good at and wants to provide for his boy. His boss can be whoever you hc I guess ;)

Obito smashes the buttons with a fist. He hits several, but at least G was included.

“Really?” says Kakashi,  as the bell chimes and the lift doors close. 

“Really,” bites back Obito, readjusting his shoulder bag as he begins to pace. Or, tries to.

“ _ Really? _ ” repeats Kakashi, slouched at the side, watching, arms folded tight. He knows he isn’t helping his mood. And that he is in-fact, making this worse. Plucking a hair, over and over; pulling at a thread, that unwinds, frays; or shaking a bottle of soda until it just, explodes. It was so easy with Obito. And Kakashi knew exactly where to push, to prod, to pick.

Especially when he was being a complete asshole.

Obito stops mid stride and turns, pointing an accusatory finger. “You know, if your boss wasn’t sucking my uncle’s dick, maybe -  _ maybe-  _ tonight would have been fun.”

“And how is who’s dick my boss sucks any of my fault?” drawls Kakashi, looking to the side, bored. He could hear Obito breathing.

“You - you’re like his lap dog?! Or something. Surely you know this stuff.” 

Ding. Floor 35. Obito smashes the buttons again. It’s a long way down from the penthouse. 

“You think I care?” Obito hates it when he answers with questions. But he’ll keep this up. “Also. Lapdog? How much money do you make again?”

Silence.

Maybe he’s gone too far this time. But then, the lift stops; the lights go, the dim red emergency lights come on, and Obito punches the buttons. Again. 

“I guess the powers out?” says Kakashi, bored, as he stares at Obito, realising he actually wore the shirt he bought him last month. It's tight around the upper arms, the blue and black check stretching against his muscles. 

“What the fuck did you do?” he says, smashing the buttons, the emergency alarm, all with no response. 

“Yeah because I really want to be stuck in here with you right now.” It isn't helping at all. But he just can't stop. He sees the rage roar in Obito's eyes, illuminated by the emergency lights. Red. Riotous.

“Did you think I wanted to be stuck in that fucking party with you, your tosser workmates, and oh!” He throws up his arms, the edge of his t-shirt lifting up enough to expose his stomach. Just a little. Kakashi chews the inside of his lip. “Surprise! My uncle Madara and the rest of the Uchiha gang-a-lang that frankly, can suck  _ my  _ dick.”

Kakashi rolls his eyes, switching the leg he's leaning on. “incest. Hot.”

“I swear to-” Obito clenches his fists, trying the buttons again as he stares at the door. He paces in front, then stops, to just state at the door once more. 

“To?” says Kakashi, extending a hand lazily. Although, there was little about him that was feeling lazy, now. 

“Did you say something?” challenges Obito as he looks behind him, trying to pry open the lift doors manually. Futile. 

“Who are you swearing to this time? Isn't it usually at someone.” Obito stopped. A shame. He could see his muscles push, tight, against the shirt he'd bought. Kakashi purses his lips, tasting the remainder of his balm. He should reapply, but that wasn't what he wanted on his lips now. 

“Do you have to be such a facetious ass?” He pushes off from the door. Restless. Hot. 

Angry. 

“Do you even know what that means?” bites Kakashi again. This might -  _ might -  _ be just too much. 

“Probably more than you know what  _ affection _ is.” he shouts, he seethes. Words become weapons, sharpened enough to pierce; hard enough to break. “Would it have killed to, to you know, hold your boyfriend's hand for 10 seconds while he's having a 2 hour panic attack? Oh yeah I guess so.”

Kakashi chews the side of his finger. He's right. But he's  _ not.  _ “You notice all the things I don't do, not the things I do.”

Obito steps closer. The red lights dance and drape, their withering light kissing him in the devil's shade. It shadowed his scars, deeply. It pushed out his collarbone. It showed he was wearing a pair of Kakashi's skinny jeans, just a little too tight. 

“Also. Boyfriend? How long have we been together now and-” he holds up his hand, showing his ringless hand, poignantly. 

“Since when is it my duty? Ask me yourself.”

“Fine!” shouts Obito. He's shaking now. Kakashi's arms aren't crossed. “Do you want to marry me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

Kakashi kicks off from the wall, closing the small gap between them in a breath. He takes Obito's head in strong hands, holding, guiding him against the cold metal wall with a messy, thud.

Knee, between knees, lips, to lips, eyes lost in shadow, he breathes, he rasps, the words writing against his mouth.

“Is this answer enough for you?” 

“It'll do.”

Insufferable. 

Hands move down, down, remembering how his arms stretch against the flannel of his shirt. 

_ Loud _ . 

He kisses his scars. Again. Again. The edge of his tongue tracing the pathways of their memory, this way, that way. He's had them so long now, they were all he knew. But Kakashi still caught him looking away from the mirror some days. So some days he worshipped. It should be everyday.

_ Proud _ .

Click click, his buttons undone. Obito has already pulled Kakashi’s belt off, messy fingers stumbling over his zip. They stumble over his bag, pushing it over his head while Kakashi refuses to pull away. One kiss right now, is worth more than a thousand tomorrow. He can’t stop. He shouldn’t. Every kiss, is a yes.

“I’m not taking your name,” growls Obito, nipping his ear lobe. Kakashi smiles against his skin, kissing, kissing.

_ Stubborn _ .

Obito tucks a small sachet into Kakashi’s hand, before bag meets floor, teeth meet collarbone, a hand dragging down his shirt, exposing, begging. Squeezing the sachet in hand to warm up, Kakashi smirks. Obito was  _ always  _ prepared. 

Kakashi tugs on Obito’s jeans, pulling at the fabric, stuck to him so close he thinks he should be jealous. He tugs, he tugs, grunting at how  _ tight  _ they are against his thick muscle. 

He’s been working out, more. Nails sink into flesh, feeling it give. And eating more. 

_ Beautiful _ .

“My trousers don’t  _ fit  _ you.”

A shuddering breath escapes Kakashi’s lips as he pulls them down, again. Off.  Free. He wastes no time in hoisting his lover higher, strong hands lifting him off the ground, and around his waist. 

“Did you  _ see _ my thighs tonight?”says Obito as he squeezes Kakashi’s waist, the power beneath his skin, immeasurable. 

Nails pricked into the skin with one hand, while he took his cock into the other, fingers cold with the lathered lube. 

“No-one could miss them,” he says, strangled, strained, as his hand draws up, and down. He takes a second. Two. Impatience is suffocating in here, filling the tiny elevator, plucking away their oxygen, breath, by breath. 

Knee holding him still, hand the other, Kakashi leans forward, steadying himself against the metal wall, blackened, red, fogged by their heat and haste, and without another second, for if he waits, he might break, he thrusts. 

Once, it’s rough, it’s raw, throwing Obito against the metal wall like he’s nothing. But he knows he can take it. And better, he wants it. Obito’s cock drags against Kakashi every time he moves, skin against cloth. He can count Kakashi’s breaths through it. 

Obito stretches, scrambles for something to hold onto behind. But the wall is smooth. Ungiving. He finds Kakashi’s hair instead and he’s rewarded with a rough thrust.

Obito pulls on his hair, again.

_ Reward.  _

Again.

Their voices sound tinny in here. Like a bad speaker turned up too loud, strained against its capability. With the void in light, with only the ruby eyes above blanketing their tryst, it pairs with their voices, oddly. It feels intimate, yet watched. Public, yet the fringe of a secret. 

Kakashi’s hand slides along the wall, dampened by his palm. He falters his pace. His cock jilts, pushing hard, harder inside. 

Obito always makes the most decadent sounds. Shy, was something he never was. Frustrated, maybe, to let Kakashi know just how  _ good  _ it felt, and that his lover was able to be so restrained. Sometimes he wonders if Obito thought his timid confessions were a sign of timid love. 

Closing his eyes, Kakashi leans forward, teeth dragging on Obito’s lobe before he moans. And moans. Unrestrained. In harmony, with his movements. A melody, with his lover. 

Obito’s eyes open. He can’t just hear. He can’t just feel. He has to see, too. He has to see his lover move, and moan, and confess,  _ confess,  _ every note against his ear, dappled in the rouge, above. 

But there’s little he can see, for he’s blinded not by darkness, but by the cock inside him, again, and again.

Kakashi moves with a raw need Obito hasn’t felt in months. Was this argument just what they needed? He grunts, he groans, twisting a fistful of hair, pulling hard as Kakashi writes his name against his neck with his teeth, joining the lines of his scars.

Hand meets hand, fingers finding their place against the clouded metal as Kakashi angles, re-angles, as he thrusts faster, the thickness of his cock filling up Obito, time and thrust and time again.

There. He’s almost there. Obito can feel the signs. His left leg always twitches; his breathing, hitches. And with noise like this, it’s so pronounced. 

He relinquishes Kakashi’s hair, the motion sharp, and he enjoys watching the way the light crawls across what he can see of Kakashi’s skin. His neck, his ear, stained with threads of hair, and his thin brow, broken by his long scar that seems to blacken in this light. He wonders what his look like, here. 

Obito’s hand drops down to his cock, throbbing raw from Kakashi’s clothed stomach, from the rough flannel of his shirt. Messy, awkward, he moves his hand between them, pushing off against the wall.

Kakashi pushes him back, knocking him hard, body to body to metal.

“ _ Fuck,”  _ he cries, forgetting how to move his hand.

“Don’t hold back.” The whisper is light. An entice. 

He remembers how to move his hand. He doesn’t hold back.

There’s a thrust so deep, Obito can barely breathe. And then another, another, their held hands hitting the metal as they do, seeking a patch of cold to their searing skin. And Kakashi cries out, almost matching his lover, as he pulls teeth against flesh, tasting the beat of Obito’s heart as he tastes his climax, spending himself inside. 

He feels his sticky seed spread across their legs as Obito moves, as he moans, his hand furiously seconds behind. Shuddering, all he can do is bask in Obito’s pleasure, listening, feeling, knowing. Kisses touch his ear, letting him hold onto those last, waning seconds. Words, let him keep them, forever. 

“Happy engagement.”

Obito laughs. He laughs, and laughs. 

“Do I have to buy you a ring now?” he stammers, kissing the edge of Kakashi’s mouth.

“How about a marriage license tomorrow?”

Obito was already breathless. Now, he just stares. “Really?’

Kakashi, kisses. “Really.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
